Don't worry about it, Mama.
The sand looks coarse
but it's actually pretty
soft.
Don't worry, Mama
I know it looks
like
I'm buried here
with only a protruding head
to prove that I'm real
but
I'll be alright.
When the tide comes in
I'll be swept away with it.
Tear away this leash around my neck
leading me like a dog
along the tightrope whims of men,
I'll be pulled only
by the solitary wisdom
of the moon.
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